


Out of Time

by hamil-done (outofthedeck)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Asexual Character, Asexual James Madison, Homophobia, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Overuse of italics, Possible Mistakes, Transphobia, cursing, i quickly skim through paragraphs before posting them, im sorry i curse a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofthedeck/pseuds/hamil-done
Summary: Believe me, revolution isn’t something to be taken lightly. Or don’t believe me. Because you, dear reader, live in a world where the American Revolution was won by the Americans. The United States of America was born. And one thing led to another and here you are. Reading this book while safely watching war happen on your television and learning about the mess that is a revolution from a monotonous textbook that only gives you the facts, not the feeling, not telling you the stakes. Do you enjoy your freedom? Your democracy?What would your life be like without those things?Who would you be without those things?What if America didn’t win the War?But what if they got a second chance?





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The World Turned Upside Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046379) by [SpeckledCoffeeCups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeckledCoffeeCups/pseuds/SpeckledCoffeeCups). 



_**Time unknown; Place unknown** _

  
Believe me, revolution isn’t something to be taken lightly. Or don’t believe me. Because you, dear reader, live in a world where the American Revolution was won by the Americans. The United States of America was born. And one thing led to another and here you are. Reading this book while safely watching war happen on your television and learning about the mess that is a revolution from a monotonous textbook that only gives you the facts, not the feeling, not telling you the stakes. Do you enjoy your freedom? Your democracy?

What would your life be like without those things?

Who would you be without those things?

What if America didn’t win the War?

But what if they got a second chance?

Now, you may close the book, put it down, and ponder these questions for a long while until you give into the need to write down your take. You can still do that. But I’m writing this so you don’t have to.

Shall we corrupt some timelines?

**_1781; The Battle of Yorktown_ **

**_1̸7̷8̶1̷;̵ ̵T̵h̵e̵ ̶B̶a̵t̶t̸l̴e̷ ̴o̵f̷ ̶Y̸o̵r̸k̶t̵o̵w̵n̴_ **

**_1̴̤̱͗̓7̴̧̒̈́8̴̰̎̏1̵̞̣̐̂;̷̤̩͒͆ ̷̧͙̎̿T̵͍̅h̵̠̐è̵̝̫ ̶̮̠͋B̷̮̭̀͘a̶̧͂͜t̶̯̦͝͠t̵̬̜̒͌l̷͉͊ě̷̗̭̐ ̷͚̬̈́o̴̪̓f̷̟̰̑̆ ̵̰͙̋Ÿ̶̭́͝o̶̫͋r̸̝̾k̷̡͂̒t̵̫̟̋o̷̟͖̍͝w̶͍̱͊n̶̡̕_ **

  
General Washington was dead. That should have been the first sign that this was not going to end well. He died admirably, saving a fellow soldier and friend from capture, but alas, he was mortally wounded and died within a few agonizing minutes. Alexander should know. He was the soldier.

Things only managed to go south from there. The French ships in Chesapeake Bay were sunk with few survivors, Lafayette being one. The relief Alexander felt was indescribable. He lost too much already. But without the French Navy’s assistance, there was no way they could win. Alexander knew this. Lafayette knew this. But they refused to accept it. They had too much on the line to accept it. But after a week of fighting, the most of the higher ups agreed that this was a fruitless cause. The hopelessness soon spread.

The unnamed blue-clad soldier stood on the parapet, waving the white handkerchief. From there it was mostly a blur. Every soldier was taken as prisoner, those with rank kept to be publicly hung, but those with a lower rank were taken to be killed unceremoniously.

The officers and generals were kept in crowded cells. There was little food, and some died of malnutrition or dehydration, but the men weren’t kept in the cells long enough to be killed by illness.

When the hangings did start, Alexander was “lucky” enough to by the small window. The British took the men by groups. The first were the traitors; the men who spied for the Patriots. Hamilton watched as Mulligan, his friend and brother in arms, fought all the way to his end. The man yelled, fought, tugged, and even punched, all trying to give hope to someone, anyone. But the Redcoats managed to get him to stand still long enough on the gallows to drop the floor from beneath him. A heavy sob from a nearby cell let Hamilton know that the news reached Lafayette.

The next group were the officers with a rank of a general. Lafayette walked out first. He didn’t fight like Mulligan, but instead the young marquis looked straight ahead, not making eye contact but keeping his head held high as if his pride could save his life and all those around him. Hamilton watched as another one of his friends dropped to his death.

The few men remaining, those of higher ranks but not quite generals, were next. In the confusion that was everyone exiting their cells at once, Burr managed to find Hamilton. The two walked next to each other towards their death. As the two men had their nooses tied around their necks, Alexander locked eyes with Burr next to him, smiled, and felt the world drop from beneath him.

Somehow, he had a feeling that this wasn’t the end.

**_T̶̩͂í̶̹m̴̓̀͜ͅe̷̤͘͜ ̶̥͗͋ủ̶͍͉͝ṉ̸͝ķ̵͇̐͆n̷̑̔͜ͅŏ̸̤͑w̶̙̆ņ̶͉͊̀;̸̺͈̅͋ ̴͔̼̾̿P̸̹͑́l̸̩̯̊a̸͙̜͝c̷̦̪͌e̷̢̊͜ ̴̯͂͝ü̷̲n̷̲͎͌k̷̹̟̊n̶̨̹̕o̵̦͖̕ẁ̶̡n̶̙͝_ **

Now, dear reader, there are some more things you must know to continue. Since we have corrupted this timeline, it is very different than your own. So I will show you some of the things that have changed.

First off, America is still a British colony and it hasn’t grown in the last 300 years because Jefferson wasn’t alive and president to buy the Louisiana Purchase. That land still belongs to France, but it is useless to the kingdom now. They used all of its resources so all of the settlements moved back to France or simply moved to the British colonies.

Gay rights didn’t move forward all that much. Gays can still be given the death sentence in some places, albeit not many. Being transgender was even worse. Being anything else was unheard of. But the LGBT+ community did manage. After 200 years they managed a way to meet underground and recognize each other by ripping a page out of the Bible, they came up with secret symbols that only other people knew. Of course, those outside of the community would catch on and some people would be arrested and killed for showing those symbols in public. The community saw them as martyrs and never forgot their names. The new image was to draw a small sailboat on your wrist, with the sail colour corresponding with your sexuality/gender orientation. Light blue was gay, pink was lesbian, light green was bisexual, dark blue or red for transgendered people (colour depending on their new gender), light purple was asexual, dark purple was agendered, maroon was non-binary, black was an ally, and so on and so forth. New colour appeared everyday. People met people, schools held secret LGBT+ meetings, and they survived.

The soldiers never quite left the American colonies. Riots came and went over the next 200 years but they never took hold. Not like the original Revolt that led to such extremes such as a constant military presence. But by now it is just a fact of life. You know your neighbourhood patrol officers by name and bake them pastries occasionally. Young men and now women who couldn’t quite graduate with good enough grades for college joined the King’s Army. Schools teach about the original Revolt, the original Rebels, the Execution of Yorktown, and so on. Of course, there were a few teachers who tried to teach the “truth,” that they had a reason to rebel, but those teachers usually “disappear” a short time after.

So, dear reader, now that you are more educated in current affairs, I think you can now continue on to meet our reincarnates.

 ** _2̴͉̬͝0̶̫̱̈̓1̵̻̋̋6̸̟̎;̴̮̝̑͝ ̷͙̐Ṋ̷̈́̐ê̸̬w̸͎̜̽͛ ̷̼̎͒Y̸̡͊o̵͕͗ṟ̷̨̓k̶̼̆̾_**  
**_(2016; New York)_**  
Alexander Hayfield didn’t care about the past. He just wanted to study law in a good college and make a good name for himself while leaving behind a good legacy. But that was hard to do as a bastard orphan from Nevis.

But, somehow, he might just be able to do that, he realized as he read his acceptance letter to King’s College. His essay must have hit home with someone in administrations because his high school education couldn’t have gotten him in, let alone a full scholarship. So he packed his backpack with the few things he still had, raised money for a plane ticket, and at the ripe old age of 17, he was off to college in a new colony.

New York, he soon found out, was nothing like Nevis. He didn’t expect it to be, he in fact hoped for this, but it was nothing like he imagined. People bustled from place to place with no mind for others, cars creeped behind one another, and so many tall buildings! When the wind picked up just a little bit, it felt like they would topple over at any minute, or at least sway a little. But they stood still, like guardians.

The campus was beautiful. It had a magnificent open courtyard with all the buildings around it. The Main Hall was a straight shot from the main entrance to the campus, and there Alex got his dorm room number and the name of his room mate.

He almost ran across the campus, ready to meet his new room mate, and maybe even make some friends, but when he got to the room it was empty. He checked the room number again to make sure it was right

180\. Well it’s the right room.

The room itself was simple. Two beds to his right with a bathroom past them, and ahead was a large window. Since he was here first, Alex decided that he was allowed to pick the bed first, and chose the one away from the window so he could sleep in longer on weekends.

Alex does a quick unpack into the dresser near his bed, and decided to look around the building, but as soon as he opened the door and stepped out, three students came bolting down the hall and quickly ducked into his room, pulling him with them, and closed the door.

Breathing heavily and leaning their backs against the door to keep it shut, they all said the same name at the same time. “Jacobson.”

 _ **2̶̺͍͆͠0̸̺̈́̑1̸̦̮̽6̸̙̙͋̿;̴̥̖͐ ̴͈͉͐͛C̴̨̚ḧ̴̝́̿ạ̴̾r̵̛̘͝l̴͚̠͒ë̶̮̝́̇s̵͈̬̈́͊ṱ̷̋̈́ͅo̵̠͛̐ṅ̷͍̱ ̸̟̊**_  
_**(2016; Charleston)**_  
John Lawrence picked a good day to come out, he thought as he wiped the water from his eyes in the cab to the airport. Today he left for college, and decided that it was the safest day to some out to his family. He was right. His relationship was already shaky with his father because of his “hallucinations” which were more like flashbacks or visions. And that fragile kinship was shattered when John came out to his father earlier, prompting the old man to disown his son and throw the boy on the street. John had to wait almost an hour in blistering heat until the cab came to pick him up. And even still, his plane doesn’t leave for another five hours. But what matters most is that he is on his way to a new future at King’s College.

He didn’t know how he got picked, but he decided that someone in the admissions office must have a soft spot for a young man with four siblings, no mother, and good grades. He, of course, left out the stuff that could get him or someone he loved arrested, such as him being gay or his semi-abusive father.

The flight was short, only an hour and forty minutes, but was a late flight so he got in at about 11:30 pm. The large airport wasn’t as crowded as it would be during the day and he was headed to the campus within the hour. The exhausted taxi driver didn’t look like he wanted to chat during the thirty minute drive over to King’s College from the Victoria International Airport. They were stopped only once by an officer and luckily the cabbie had a license to drive at night and with John’s plane ticket and acceptance letter, they convinced the officer of their intentions and were allowed to continue with their drive.

The campus at night, John learned, wasn’t as empty as he thought it would be. The college officers seemed to be college students themselves and were often caught participating in student activities and generally not caring if there were students out at night. The only guard to be worried about was Officer Howell, but the old man was almost never on duty. After getting directions from a rather meek student, he managed to find the housing department and got his room number and the name of his dorm...mates?

“I thought I only got one room mate?”

“You were placed in one of the few larger rooms we have with can house up to three students. I’m afraid that is all we have.” The nice lady informed him, but made it clear that it was final. John just nodded absently and walked off towards the building across campus with his dorm in it. Both of his room mates already checked in earlier today and yesterday. The hallways were a mess, full of drunk students totally unprepared for life completely independent from their parents. 307 307 John just wanted to find his dorm and take a nice, long nap. 307 307 Ah there it is. John quickly pocketed the piece of paper he was holding and fished out the key the lady at the desk gave him. He was about to put the key in when a man about a head taller than him opened the door, and more engrossed in his conversation than what was right in front of him until they collided and crashed to the ground with a yelp.

 _ **2̴̜̖̉͗0̷̛̝1̵̫̏̑6̵̭͐͘ͅ;̷̞̈́̓ ̴̱͆P̵̗̣̄à̶̹̀r̵͓̳̿̌i̶̖̓s̴̱͑̏**_  
_**(2016; Paris)**_  
Gilbert du Motier de Lavigne was dead. Oh my God, he was so dead. He just ran off to a British colony to study college. He barely knew English! But here he is. On a Victoire flight to the Spanish state to a flight to the Victoria International Airport.

His phone stopped blowing up with calls and texts about an hour ago after his grandfather sent him a voicemail saying he was not to return home after he graduated. Or for the holidays. Or at all.

Gilbert put his head in his hands and groaned. He did not think this through. But he already took out the money for tuition and books and the likes, and he was accepted. The letter said that this was a big step towards peace between the two kingdoms. King Louis XXX even publically approved it, but behind closed doors Gilbert may have gotten a royal ass-chewing.

But here he is and he can’t turn back now. His childhood friend Adrienne is the only one back in France still willing to talk to him.

The eight hour flight left lots of time for thinking. He thought about his major, Foreign Affairs, and his family, and his new future. But his mind could only go so far before it came back around again to the same topics, so Gilbert picked up his laptop and began to study his English.

By the time the plane landed, Gilbert could introduce himself, ask simple questions, and receive simple directions. The nice man next to him was more than willing to help him. He was fluent in French, but his strong American accent that crawled through his otherwise flawless pronunciations made it obvious that he was from the Colonies.

Gilbert and the man split ways afterwards. The man seemed to be a prominent figure here because he had a car waiting for him. But sadly no card with his name on it, and Gilbert already forgot the man’s name.

After two cabbies and two hours of using his broken English, Gilbert finally arrived at King’s College. The lady at the Main Hall was sympathetic with the jet lagged man who could barely speak English, and showed his the way to his dorm. He learned that her name was Eliza and she worked the Main Hall with her two sisters Angelica and Peggy for pay.

They parted ways and Gilbert prayed that he didn’t get some English prick for a roommate before finally opening the door. The dorm was more like a hotel room. To his left there was a bunk bed set and one lonely bed on the other side of the room. Straight ahead there was a rather nice, if not small, kitchenette. And in the center of it all, a tall, dark man picking up broken glass that looked like it was a glass before it tooks its fatal fall while talking in rapid-fire English. It took Gilbert a moment to realize he was talking to him.

And he just asked a question.

 ** _2̸͙͙͌́0̵͓̚1̶̢̼̅̕6̶̤͗͑;̴͉̐ ̸͖̑̈M̸̢̔ȃ̵̱i̸̬̙̒͛ṉ̵͍̊̈è̶̗̭̍_**  
**_(2016; Maine_** )  
Hercules Muiraegáin hated his name. This was to be expected from a man who’s constantly bombarded with people thinking he was named after a Disney character. What’s even worse is that he can’t go by his surname since no one can ever pronounce it. So he decides that correcting people on the origins of his name is better than correcting their pronunciations.

All of that, of course, became miniscule in his life. After his mother died and his father took up alcohol, he was in charge of taking care of his five younger siblings. He got a job, worked more hours of the day than he thought possible, all while balancing school and making sure that everyone gets a full belly at night. So when the time came to start worrying about college, his mind was everywhere else. However, his brother and second oldest, Hugh, saw this and decided to apply for scholarships for him. Hercules’ confusion when he got accepted into King’s college is forever preserved in the frame on the hallway wall.

Hercules, bless his heart, of course tried to get out of it. But Hugh, who was finally 18 at the time, said that he could look after their siblings. He already had a nice paying job that could pay for the five of them. So, reluctantly, Hercules left for New York. He had called ahead the night before to make sure that he still had his scholarship and a dorm, so he could just head straight to the dorm room once he arrived.

The morning came when Hercules had to say goodbye to his family. His father even managed to sober up for a few hours to visit and say his goodbyes. The seven of them stood on the lawn of their little house, crying and hugging and promising to come visit. When Hercules finally had the chance to pull away, Hugh pulled him to the side before he could get in the cab.

“Take care of them, would you?” He asked softly, nodding his head in the direction of their rowdy brothers and sisters.

“Of course, I promised you I would and I’m not taking away that promise last minute.” He smiled, hugged him, and let him climb in the old car. He could still hear the chorus of ‘goodbye’ even after they left the neighbourhood.

The flight felt long, but in actuality was only about forty minutes. Hercules had never been on a plane before, and the storms started about halfway through and started jostling the plane. Luckily, he was sitting next to a new mother and her child, so he busied himself with talking to her and playing with the kid

“What are you going to study in college?” She asked him and he froze. A seemingly innocent question, and one that all college students have thought about at least once, except him.

After a pause, he finally responded with a simple “I don’t know.”

“Well, I hope you find something that suits you.’’ She went on to feed her child and left Hercules to think about it. What was he going to study? He knows he has two years to figure it out, but that wasn’t very Hercules-like. He usually has a plan of attack, a system that will get him through with the least amount of casualties-

Wait.

Casualties? Where did that come from? What would prompt his brain to think that anyone was going to get hurt. It was college. What could possibly go wrong.

But the bad feeling has rooted itself in his gut and won’t leave no matter how many reassurances he made.

 _ **2̵͚̆͆́͝0̷̧̭̙̖̽̈́̈́1̶̮̥̋̾̐̕͝ͅ6̸̤̋̋̾̓;̸̯̥̠̹̹̊̔̂̋̆ ̵̥̮̫̮̣̎N̷̮̖͕̦͚̄̅̊̕e̴͍͇̤̳̫̓̏w̷̛͈͈̜͕̖̅̄̔̀ ̶̗̮̠͌͗̏͐Y̴̟͓̎̿̌͐̋o̸̯̭̳̒r̶͖̔͝k̵͔̥͎̮̹̐̄͘**_  
_**(2016; New York)**_  
Aaron Bell had learned a lot from his time through the system, but the biggest lesson was that families don’t like children who can’t keep their mouths shut. At first, he resisted everyone who told him to slow down using his words, Usually, that worked. Somehow, he knew every pressure point for every person he met within minutes. And that usually stopped people from talking to him. Until it didn’t.

As he got older, and the people he met got older, he realized that the older they get the harder it is to hurt them with words. The first expulsion he got from school was when he punched his middle school teacher for cutting off a young girl’s hair “because the beads were irritating him.” The family he was with gave him back to the system after that. Since then, it was harder and harder to get a family to foster him. And slowly, he became quieter. He plotted in silence. Used both his words and force (secretly) to manipulate people.

It wasn’t until he hurt one of his nicer foster mothers that he learned that maybe hurting people isn’t the way to go. So he tried to use his skills for better. He participated in the Debate Team at his high school, he used his grades and his observation skills to woo every teacher, ultimatly putting him in the top of his class. He graduated as valedictorian and every college in the Colonies and in England wanted him. Bell chose King’s College because that’s the school where his parents met. And he wanted to honour their memory by graduating from there with a degree in law, like his mother.

Since he lived in New York his entire life, he just drove the couple of minutes up to the campus. He wanted the full college experience, so he decided to pay for a dorm room. His current foster parents didn’t care since they were getting a new, younger child soon. The campus wasn’t much, at least to him. Most of the colleges in England looked a thousand times more elegant, but he smiled anyways knowing that his parents were here and the fell in love here.

In main hall, Bell saw a mirror of his own smile in the girl behind the desk; fake and put on so they don’t come off as rude or unapproachable. “Excuse me miss, but a little birdie told me that this was where I got my dorm assignment.”

“Yes sir, this is. Can I have your name?”

“Aaron Bell, and your is…” He asked, maybe a little to flirtatiously.

She looked up at him. “Angelica Saunders, sir, and please don’t flirt with me.” Bell’s smile twitched but didn’t falter as she went back to typing.

“Of course, I would never dream of it.” Bell realized what he said too late. Oh shit. SHe looked up at him.

“Excuse me?” She said, fire barely being held back behind her eyes.

“Oh-I mean...I-” He was cut off of his stammering by her. She started to yell at him and all he could do was stand there shocked, wondering how something can go bad so fast. Luckily, a small brunette came from the back room and tore Angelica away before she could do any permanent damage.

“Hey sis, let’s not scare off the newcomers just yet, at least wait a little bit, alright?” Her slightly high pitched voice annoyed Bell a little but not all too much. She turned her attention back to Bell. “Kinda sorry about her, but kinda not knowing you probably said something really arrogant. I’m Peggy, by the way.” She wrote down Bell’s room number and room mate’s name on a sheet of paper and handed it to him, and he caught sight of a familiar looking image on her wrist, but said nothing. “Here you go, dorm’s across campus and to the left a bit, third building to your left.” He knew where it was but thanked her anyways.

He looked at the paper and looked at the door number. Room 180 He pulled out his key and walked in, not quite ready for what awaited him inside.

 _ **2̶̼̞̇0̵̬̟̎̐1̶̛͕̒6̴̠͑;̶̼̓̆ ̵̺̘̂K̴̳̞̐̕ī̸̦͐n̸̤̗̓̽g̶̠͗̆'̷̢̏ṡ̴̡͈͝ ̴̦͐C̶͕̈́o̸̫̣͊l̸̝͓͋̆ĺ̶͎e̸̼̓̓g̶̙̮̓ȩ̴̝͒**_  
_**(2016; King’s College)**_  
A middle aged man sits in his dark office late at night, the dull glow of his computer screen being the only light. He takes a sip of his coffee and smiled when the names of ten certain students appeared on his roster for the new semester. Suddenly, there was hope for the colonies.


	2. Meetings part 2: JeffMads + the Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our antiheroes and our sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok im sorry this is late i planned on a sunday update but life happened  
> So this dells deeper into backstories than the previous chapter and im thinking about going back and fixing it so look out for that  
> Also ilu guys so much! thanks for all the love; both tough and gentle!  
> One more thing "queer" is used a little bit in the sisters' bit but not as a slur and there is a little bit of cursing (but expect that in this fic i use curse words a lot in my writing)  
> happy reading <3

**_U̷̧̳͌̂ň̸̼͈̚k̷̩̲̑n̶̢̙͊͂o̷̲͐̃w̴̹͕͂̈́n̴̞̕ ̵̨͒͑T̴̂͜i̴̭͇͌̾m̴͇̀͛ȅ̸̝̬;̴̟͝ ̶̥̀̄ Ǘ̷̥͜ň̶̞̪͒k̶̪̔ṅ̶̠ó̵̱̀w̶͇̕n̷̠̐ ̶͎̣̆͘P̸͚͚̓͌ľ̴̮́a̷̡̿c̸̭͑̃e̸͙̳͑_ **

Dear reader, you have returned! It is nice to see that my story does go noticed. I, of course, would be happy to tell this story to an empty room, but it is nice to see some appreciation. Thank you. I guess as we continue our story, there are some more things you must know.

 

Government is quite a tricky thing, is it not? It can be quite fickle while also not changing for hundreds of years. And well, that is a perfect description of the British government.

In our new, imperfectly perfect universe, Britain has hardly changed. She is still led by a king or queen.Parliament is there to help ‘guide’ them, but in reality the king or queen makes the real decisions. There is, however, a small group of people personally chosen by the king or queen to rule over the colonies.

 

Mr. Jacobson is one of these men in the government. Well, he was until he got rich and settled down with a trophy wife and a surprise son. Even though the man doesn’t have a job, the little family still retained their income somehow.

  


Mr. Saunders is one of these men in the government. He and his wife had one child before Mrs. Saunders became infertile. The couple, however, wanted another child, or two. Their first child did not take good to this news.

 

Shall we continue?

 

**_2̶̬̯̬̐̈́̐̕0̷̣́̉͗͝1̴̗̙͕̿̂̌6̵̡͕͐̄̌̕;̵̨̻̩̆̇̀̐͌ ̵̰̲̄V̸̩̥̇ͅì̴̧̛͇̻̀̍ͅr̷̭͓̜͇̈́̀̑g̵̭̔͝ĭ̵̖͑̍͘͠ṅ̷̦̲́̔̕i̶̧͕̙̭͆͋̔̄̄à̴͍̲̘̏̋̈́_ **

**_(2016; Virginia)_ **

Thomas Jacobson had a perfect family. A nice family that screamed “nuclear.” His mother was the token wife, his father was the cliche rich man who never worked, but still somehow managed to gain wealth. Thomas was basically a prince. He lived in a mansion. He had maids and butlers do the work he didn’t want to do. His parents paid for everything he ever wanted.

 

And you see, Thomas _thought_ this was going to include his college tuition, so he never really worried about getting a scholarship. That was until his parents sat him down and told him that they weren’t going to pay for his whole tuition, that he was going to have to find a way to pay off the other half. That included going into debt. Thomas was furious.

 

“We just want to teach you the hardships of life. Not everything will be handed to you.” His mother said calmly as ever while accepting a mimosa from a chef.

 

“But _Father_ never had to go into debt!” He gestured to the stoic man beside his mother.

 

“Yes, Tommy, but-”  
  
“No ‘ _buts’_ ok? I did _nothing_ to deserve this! Why sh-”

 

“Thomas!” Thomas paled at the sound of his father’s booming voice.

 

“Y-yes, father?”

 

“You are acting out of line.”

 

“Peter.” His mother tried to stop him, fully knowing where this was going to go.

 

“At this rate, we feel we shouldn’t have to-”

 

“-Peter-”

 

“-pay _anything._ So, congratulations, you are fully independent. You just lost the $25k from us.” Thomas’ father huffed, turned around stiffly, and walked out, with his mother trailing close behind, leaving Thomas in the livingroom alone except for the maid sweeping in the corner, shaking his head and _tsk_ ing.

 

“You should have just taken the money and not argued.” He said and Thomas shot him a glare, but didn’t respond knowing he was right. He just numbly went upstairs to start packing. The semester started in two weeks and he wanted to be at the campus sooner rather than later.

 

The day he was leaving, his parents gave him an emergency card with ‘only’ $10,000 on it. “Do not waste this on drinks or your tuition. This is in case you get hurt or about to be evicted from your home.” Thomas mumbled a thanks and his mother hugged him. “I love you.” Thomas just nodded.

 

*When his mother pulled back, wiping tears from her eyes, his father took her place. He placed a hand on his shoulder and took him in for a short hug. “Make me proud. Don’t do anything stupid, alright son?” Again, Thomas just nodded. “And remember, don’t hang out with the _wrong people.”_ Thomas knew exactly who these “wrong people” were. His father was known for being very supportive of anti-gay laws.

 

The drive up wasn’t exactly eventful, but it was long. All Thomas wanted to do was take a nap and go for a walk all at the same time. But since it was barely past midday, he decided on a walk. The chose the walk mostly because if he stayed in that horrifically small room any longer he would explode.

 

But what he didn’t expect to do was to get lost on the small and reasonably uncomplicated campus. Since he left deep in thought, he lost his sense of direction and what building he was in. So he swallowed his pride and walked up to the nearest person who didn’t look like they would punch him. He was wrong.

 

He tapped the short man on the shoulder. “Hey, where’s the George building?” Attitude dripped from the simple question, but Thomas just wanted a nap. The man just stared at him, mouth half ajar.

 

“I do, but why would I tell you, especially with that attit-” Thomas cut him off.

 

“Okay, yes I was an ass, just tell me which one it is.”

 

“What’s the magic word?” The short man just smirked and Thomas really wanted to punch him, but just smiled and straightened up to his full 6’2” height.

 

“‘Oh please, I beg of you, oh Small One, please tell me where I may find the god damned George building?’” The smile fell from the stranger’s face as Thomas did his over-dramatic acting. It was just enough to rile up the man in front of him and Thomas knew it. He was expecting an argument back, but when pain exploded in his nose, Thomas realized the man just punched him. Thomas staggered back and brought a hand to the tender area only to see blood on his finger.

 

“Looks like I’m tall enough to reach-” He was cut off by Thomas about to throw a punch, but two more people joined the scene. One, the taller one, stood in front of the short one, while the big one talked to Thomas.

 

“Hey, are you alright?” He looked at Thomas with sympathy, but Thomas just glared at him. Thomas was about to wipe away the blood with his sleeve when the Big One (Thomas officially calls him) handed him a handkerchief. For a second Thomas just stared at it ( _seriously who the hell has a handkerchief these days?)_ but gratefully took it a second later.

 

“Yeah, I guess so. Who is that guy? ” Thomas motioned to the man who punched him. The bigger man laughed.

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. My new roommate, technically, but I have no idea who he is really.” Thomas huffed.

 

“I guess this says a lot about him.” Thomas stood up straighter to try and keep some of his dignity intact. “Well, thank you for your help, I really need to get back to my dorm. Do you know where the James building is?” The man gave him a look.

 

“You sure you don’t want someone to look at that?”

 

“No, thanks.” Thomas’ patience was running thin. “I just _really_ would like to get back now, thanks.” The man looked irritated and maybe even a little offended, but gave him directions anyways.

 

“And hey, don’t get into anymore fights, alright?” The man yelled as Thomas walked away. He just waved a hand in response and went back to cleaning his face.

 

Walking to his dorm wasn’t fun with everyone pointing and staring at him while he’s trying to stop the blood coming out of his nose. By the time he got to his room, the handkerchief, which he accidentally stole, was covered in blood, and he still had dried blood above his lip. He really just wanted to lie down and sleep for the next four years, but was met with the sight of a man on the counter of his dorm trying to reach a cup.

 

For a few seconds they stared at each other. Thomas, unsure what to do in a situation like this, decided to be the bigger person and cleared his throat ready to ask what the hell is going on when the man and he slipped off the counter with a _thud_ followed by the sound of a glass breaking.

**_2̶̬̯̬̐̈́̐̕0̷̣́̉͗͝1̴̗̙͕̿̂̌6̵̡͕͐̄̌̕;̵̨̻̩̆̇̀̐͌ ̵̰̲̄V̸̩̥̇ͅì̴̧̛͇̻̀̍ͅr̷̭͓̜͇̈́̀̑g̵̭̔͝ĭ̵̖͑̍͘͠ṅ̷̦̲́̔̕i̶̧͕̙̭͆͋̔̄̄à̴͍̲̘̏̋̈́_ **

**_(2016; Virginia)_ **

James Melton could die. He could drop dead right now and wouldn’t even care. Of course, dropping dead wasn’t too out there, he’s done it twice, but right now, he would welcome it with welcome arms. He just received his fifth rejection letter, which means his last chance is King’s College, one of the hardest colleges to get into in the Colonies.

 

(James _knows_ it's his grades. He wasn’t a failure, so to speak, in fact he has a gpa of 4.0 for all but one semester. He was hospitalized for a couple of months in junior year, so his gpa for that semester is a 3.8.)

 

James threw the letter in the trash after he read the first line. He didn’t need to read any further, they all read the same.

 

But one morning a couple days later changed James’ life. About a week after the last rejection letter, his mother dropped the weekly mail on the counter, and went upstairs to change for work. James didn;t know why he was up so early in the first place, he usually slept till midday, but when he woke up at seven and couldn’t go back to sleep, he took it as a sign to just get up. So here he was, drinking a cup of tea and looking through the mail on a Saturday morning when a nice looking letter caught his eye. He almost dropped his mug when he saw the seal for King’s College.

 

“Mom!” He yelled up to his mother. “My letter from King’s came!”

 

Loud footsteps came down the stairs and James looked up to see his mom putting in her earings. “So? Did you open it yet?” James shook his head and turned the letter over in his hands. His mother took his hand. “C’mon, open it. This is the one, I can feel it.” She smiled her beautiful smile and he tore open the letter.

 

He scanned the document and paused when he read the faithful sentence. _You have been accepted into King’s College._ He read it again. And again. And kept rereading it until his mother had to pry the letter out of his hands to read it. “Let me see then, if you aren’t going to tell me. Uh huh, blah blah bl-” She paused and her face lit up. “Oh my God, Jemmy you did it.” They embraced and James felt himself get emotional. He did it. He might actually have a future.

 

The two took the rest of the week off to celebrate. But when the time came to leave, he really didn’t want to. As they walked down the stairs of their apartment building, his mother went through her mental checklist, much to James’ chagrin.

 

“Ok so you have your toothbrush?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Medication?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ok, you have pajamas, clothes for both winter and summer? Because I heard that winters in Ne-” James cut her off.

 

“Mother, I have everything. I promise. You went through my suitcase remember?” He said with a laugh and she turned pink a little bit when the neighbours they were walking past stifled a giggle. They stopped a cab that would take him to the airport and loaded his bags in before hugging for the upteenth time that morning.

 

“Just, promise me you’ll call?”  
  
“Yes, I promise.”

 

“Every night.” He laughed and they pulled apart. James kissed his mother’s forehead and got in the cab. His mother waved to him goodbye as the cabbie drove away.

 

The flight from Norfolk to New York was how he realized he hated flying. Because he has only ever been on a plane once before when he was a child, he didn’t know what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t an hour and a half of turbulence, a baby screaming in his left ear, and him eying the barf-bag.

 

By the time he got to the campus he was ready to lie down and take a nap, but he still had to go to his dorm and- _oh God_ \- meet his dorm mate.

 

The nice lady at the Main hall was nice, but looked overworked. The line was long, what with only a couple people handing out room numbers to about a hundred people, but James was A-OK with that. The large crowds also let him

 

But he got lucky. James got to the dorm second, but his dorm mate wasn’t here. He took the bed near the wall since the stranger had put his stuff on the bed near the window, probably claiming it. For a few minutes, James sat and waited for his roommate to come back, but gave up and stared at his suitcase, fully intending to unpack but _really_ not feeling like it. But he would like a cup of tea. But the only problem was that the cups were in the cupboard. Out of his reach. So he did what any sane, short man would do and he climbed on the counter to grab one. The only problem was that he didn’t expect his roommate to come in at this exact moment. His roommate, for some reason, had blood coming out of his nose. For a while they stared at each other and all James could think was _Good going James good first impression Oh God why is he bleeding what do I do should I help maybe if I don’t move then I’ll phase out of exista-_

 

The stranger cleared his throat and was obviously about to say something, but the sudden noise startled James and he lost his delicate balance. Before either could understand what was  happening, James found himself on the floor surrounded by tea bags and a broken cup and oh God he _slipped off the counter in front of a stranger._

 

_Fuck._

**_2̴̗͉̰̿0̵̢̬̞̰͈̇̄̓1̶̛͖̾̉͜6̴̱̚;̶̥͇͉̖͙̐̋̈ ̷̠͊̔̒̀̆N̷̞̔͝e̶͓̕w̵͈̜̤̳̆͛͛̒ ̶͇̳̟͚̤̆͗̅Y̶͈̩͔͙̞̏̇͝o̶̡̝̦͘͝ŗ̵͎͚͛k̵̻̺͙͆͆̀̏_ **

**_(2016; New Y_ **

Angelica Saunders was in fifth grade when her parents told her about Eliza. They sat her down and told her that she was going to have a little sister. Little Anggie couldn’t believe it. A little sister! She was practically jumping up and down with joy. But when they explained to her that little Eliza was going to be adopted, not biologically theirs, she seemed to deflate. Adopted? She knew what it was but could never imagine having a stranger intrude on their happy little family. For the next month, Angelica dreaded meeting this “Elizabeth”. When the day finally arrived, Angelica felt miserable, but wanted to be happy because her parents wanted her to be happy.

 

So when Angelica was told to say hello, she said hello. But when she was told to hug this...this... _intruder,_ not only did she refuse, but she pushed the new girl to the ground and ran inside crying.  
  
It took a couple of years for Angelica to warm up to Eliza. Even then, Angelica would go out of her way to terrorize the little girl, which included biting her eye and pushing her down the stairs. During an Earthquake. But when Angelica found out that she loved her sister was when Eliza’s first boyfriend broke her heart. Angelica was 13, Eliza was 12, and the ex-boyfriend was 14. Angelica hated him from the beginning, but when he hurt her sister, she marched right up to him after school and socked him right in the jaw. That night, Angelica and Eliza watched sappy romance movies all night while Angelic rubbed circles into her sister’s back.

 

It was a couple months later when the sister got the news of a new sister. Margarita Rivers would soon be a Saunders. While Angelica was ready for this, Eliza showed signs of anger. So the night before the third sister arrived, Angelica and Eliza had another movie night and Angelica told stories about being an only child, and Eliza told stories about being in the system. They were both ready that morning to receive another in their family.

 

Margarita Saunders, however, was not ready to be received. For the first six months, she lived out of her suitcase and didn’t eat a lot. She got into fights at home and at school. Angelica and Eliza tried to connect with her, but were unable to. It seemed as if every time they got close, she would push them away again.

 

It was after a pretty hard day at school when the truth came out. As soon as they got home, Margarita disappeared off to her room and slammed the door shut. Angelica and Eliza shared a look.

 

“We shouldn’t pry. She’ll open up when she feels like it.” Angelica said as she got things out to start cooking dinner. Eliza looked like she wanted to scream.

 

“So we give up on her?” Angelica looked up from her cooking. “She needs us. I don’t-” Eliza cut herself off.

 

“You don’t what?”  


Eliza debated whether or not to say it, but then sighed. “I don’t want to put her through what I went through my first years here.” Angelica’s jaw tightened.

 

“You know I’m sorry.”  


“Of course, I just think that she needs to talk this out. That’s what I needed.” Angelica looked defeated.

 

“Okay, we can try, but this didn’t work last time.” Angelica carefully placed the knife on the cutting oard and followed her sister up to Margarita’s room. When they knocked, however, they heard the _thump!_ of a shoe hitting the door and a muffled “fuck off”.

 

Eliza huffed and opened the door anyways, only to dodge the other shoe. “What the-Margarita!” The third sister was in the corner of the large room with her arms wrapped around her knees. She rolled her red and puffy eyes and turned around so her back was to Eliza and Angelica.

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

Angelica opened her mouth to ask why, but Eliza beat her with something else. “Then what would you like to be called?” She asked softly. Margarita looked back at the two suspiciously.

 

“‘Peggy’, please. ‘Margarita’ was what my parents called me.” Eliza just nodded and turned to Angelica, who was standing behind her, just out of the room. “You see, she just-”

 

“Don’t call me that either!” Eliza was startled by the sudden outburst and turned to see Peggy standing and angry. But in a second that was gone with a simple “Shit.”

 

Eliza knew somehow she was on thin ice. “Don’t call you what?” She said slowly as if talking to a cornered animal.

 

“Don’t-Don’t call me ‘she’.” Eliza was confused. Peggy was a girl right? So then why would s-

 

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why doesn’t she like to be called ‘she’?’ ‘She is a girl right?’ and well, yes, I guess I technically am? But I’m just _not!_ I don’t like being called a girl and I don’t think of myself as a ‘she’, but I don’t think of myself as a ‘him’ either, you know? I just-I-I don’t know.” At the last statement, Peggy looked defeated. Like the world’s on this orphan’s shoulders. When Peggy looked up again, she-or he- or _they?-_ stared right into Angelica’s eyes. “Can I trust you?” She asked finally.

 

Angelica sputtered. “I-Of course-Of course you can trust us!”

 

“Can I trust you? This isn’t about some silly crush, this is a life or death secret. Now, can I trust you?”

 

“Whatever you need to tell us, you can. I promise on my life, you will always be safe with us.” A sigh was the only response at first. But then Peggy pulled the two into her room and closed the door in one incredible sweep.

 

“Mom and dad aren’t home!” Angelica managed to say over Eliza’s startled squeal.

 

“You can never be too safe when you have a secret like mine.” Peggy said while closing the blackout curtains. Angelica, being closest to the door, turned on the lights so the three of them weren’t standing in complete darkness. Peggy pulled the two close and showed them a drawing of a sailboat on her (their? his? Angelica was confused as to what to _call_ her sibling) wrist. The boat was empty, but the sail was coloured in a deep purple. “This is my secret.”

 

Angelica looked up confused. “A purple sailboat?” She asked with a quizzical expression on her face. Peggy rolled their (Angelica chose to stick with this one until she gets something else) eyes.

 

“No, it’s more than that. The sailboat, it represents the Queer Community, but we like to call ourselves LGBT+, since “queer” is used as a slur more often than not.” Eliza smiled softly at her sister while Angelica looked confused.

 

“Okay, so then what does the purple mean? I assume that the colour of the sail means something?” Peggy nodded.

 

“You see, the different colours represent the different identities. The dark purple that I have represents ‘agender’.” Eliza’s confusion matched that of Angelica.

 

“What does that mean, to be ‘agendered’, I mean?” Eliza asked. Peggy looked down at her shoes uncomfortably.

 

“It means that I don’t feel like a girl or a boy.” Angelica and ELiza nodded in sync.  
  
“Okay, so is there anything else we should know?”

 

Peggy nodded once again. “Different gender orientations use different pronouns, sometimes. Instead of ‘she/her’, I prefer ‘xhe/xem/xeir’. But only in front of people I’ve come out to.” She added quickly.

 

“And that means, like, people who know about this?”

“Yeah.”  
  
“Alright, who else knows then?”

 

Peggy just shrugged. “A few kids in a gay club back at the orphanage. But that’s it, really.” Xhe looked up. “You won’t tell anyone, right?” Angelica and Eliza just took xer hand in theirs.

 

“We promise.” And that was why Mr. and Mrs. Saunders found their kids in a sleep pile in Peggy’s bed when they came home.

  


Over the next two years, Peggy’s sisters became really protective over xem. While they never used xer pronouns in public, they always used them when it was just the three of them. And Peggy took them to meet with some of xer friends from the orphanage who were also sporting different coloured sailboats. Soon, both Angelica and Eliza had sailboats on their wrists as well. Angelica’s sail was black to indicate that she was an ally, but not a member of the COmmunity, while Eliza had black at first, but then felt more comfortable with pink, indicating that she was lesbian.

 

Angelica loved her sister, which made it even harder to head off to college a year before them. Eliza will join her next year as a sophomore since she took advanced classes, but Peggy will be a freshman. But Angelica didn’t care what grade they were in as long as she got to spend most of her college years with them.

 

Angelica’s first year at college was a whirlwind. She not only got admitted to the underground Queer Alliance alliance, but was so active that she was to help recruit new members next year. She was honoured to be trusted this much by them. Angelica also befriended most if the staff, and was offered a part-time job at the Main Hall next year, to which she obviously accepted.

 

The summer was just as much of a whirlwind, but her sophomore year in college was looking to be an even more hectic one. Since she was helping with the room assignments, she put herself in with her sisters (and in the nice building). But in returned, she dragged her sisters along to help her with handing out the room assignments to the new students.

 

After the fourteenth time a guy flirted with her she snapped. Not only did he flirt with her, but then he goes and has the _gall_ to _insult her right in front of her face._ Peggy had to pull her away and talk her down since Eliza was off showing a student around. “Hey, what was that all about?” Xhe asked after the guy was out of earshot.

 

“He not only _flirted with me_ , which I can deal with, but then when I _politely none the less_ ask him to stop, he goes and _insults me!_ I think I have the right to be angry!” Peggy just sighed knowingly.

“Yes, but you are working in customer service. You have to learn to just let it go.” Xhe said that last bit while dramatically breathing out and Angelica gave her a look.

 

“Didn’t you almost punch a guy less than an hour ago because he said that Chick-fil-A was better than Subway?”  


“Yes, but that was justified.”  
  
“And me being insulted isn’t?” Peggy opened xer mouth to retaliate, but then closed it deciding that xhe lost.

 

“Yeah, okay, you got me there.” The two went to clean up and make sure that the guy for the night shift was ready before heading out when Eliza came back.

 

“So, what did I miss? Anybody get punched?” She asked, fully knowing that it wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“Almost, but no. Where did you go anyways?” Eliza laughed.

 

“Showed around a new student. He was from France, spoke barely any English. The poor guy was so confused and since I speak French better than the two of you combined, I decided to show him around.” Angelica stared at her.

 

“That could have been disastrous. He could've bee-”  
  
“If you saw the guy, you’d know that he just got in from an eight hour plus flight and really just wanted to sleep. Plus, It turned out alright in the end, I guess.” The three of them nodded at the statement and walked off into the cold night to their dorm.

 

**_2̷̳͂0̸̯̮͛͌̒͑͠1̶̊͜6̷̼͈̓̉̂͘;̷̨͔̠̟̐̑̐͝ ̴̢͆́̏͌K̷̭͂̑̔́̒i̸̧̤̻̟͐͜n̴̫͙̰̖͊̓͌͛͊g̸̫̘̯̪̅̾͠'̶̝̟͉͉̍̒s̷͇͎̟̭̫͂̒͑ ̵͙̃̄̚͠C̶̛̛͙̱̮̀̈́ö̴̧͕̼́l̷͚͖͎͊l̶̙̎̓͗̌͝é̷̝͒͝g̴̦̗͔̠͒̆̿͜e̶̢̗̬͐͘͜_ **

**_(2016; King’s College)_ ** ****__  
  


The man paces in his empty classroom, what if’s buzzing around his head making him feel nauseous. _What if they don’t remember? What if it isn’t them? What if one of them betrays us? What if-? What if-?_ His walking circles like his thoughts. _What if-? What if-?_

 

_What if?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you see any mistakes or inconsistencies pls tell me so i can fix them i did a real quick scan through before posting this bc i wanted to get this to you guys  
> <3


	3. Chapter 3: The Trio meets Each Other, Plus One (or two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see how our Trio meet each other, gossip about a fellow student, and meet a very important person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love commas and missing promised deadlines
> 
> sorry about that

**_2̷̦̭̓͐̔̓0̸̨͉́͋̚͜1̸̦̠̙̣̾͠6̵̧̮̩̯̦͋͊;̸̘͒ ̷͔̫̦̙̥̀̆̾̕͠K̷̝̟̲̦̗͂̀̔̊i̸̼͗̍̇͝n̷̡̲͛g̵̬̔̾̚͠'̷̧̣̘͕̓͝s̶̪̬͆̏ ̸͔̅C̶̞͕̪̫̰̎̐ǫ̴͖͍̬͎͗͐̚l̸̞̍͛l̵̹̩̐̅ḙ̸̢́͒̎̔̕ͅg̷̗̜̦̘̀́͜e̵̳̊'̷͓͗̚̚ś̴̭̹̎̏ ̴̞͓̏̄̅̌V̵̬͔́i̸͎̹͑͑̐͒͒ͅc̴͈͈͖͌̈́̋̒̚t̶̡̹̫̥̳̍̏̐̇̿ợ̴͕͍̈̕͘r̸͇̦͂͂̓̂͌ì̶̦ā̵̛̦̖͈̭̃̑̚ ̷̡̦͎͙̖̈́̀͂̊͝B̴̧̧͓͚̖̾̆͂͌͘ǘ̴̬͕̾̈́ì̶̜̜̂̈̓̕l̴͚̙͈͗̄͆̈́͗͜ͅd̶̫̜͊̔i̴̭̰͉̫͔͗̀n̸̟̦̩͐g̵̫̗̈́_ **

**_(2016; King’s College’s Victoria Building)_ **

 

If someone were to ask Hercules, he would say that he is very cool under pressure. He had to be. Living in poverty in Boston was stressful and the family had more than one emergency. The rent was overdue, they didn’t have electricity or hot water, or sometimes they wouldn’t have enough food for all of them. And Hercules was the big brother. It was his job to keep everything in order, and by extension, he had to be able to keep cool under pressure. But back then he had his family to worry about. He had a reason bigger than himself to keep his head.

 

Looking back on it, Hercules would laugh and take a sip of his beer before saying that he already had a stressful day before he met “the knuckleheads” he calls his friends and that’s his excuse as to why everything went to shit that day.

 

But in the moment, all that was running through poor Hercules’ head was _shit shi sHIT._

 

It started when he dropped one of the glass cups the school lent them in front of a man he was going to spend the rest of the year living with. Not a very good impression. And he had no idea what to do next.

 

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted a glass of water. I’ll clean this up don’t worry, I’m not one of those roommates that’s constantly making a mess and has no boundaries. I have boundaries. And I hate mess. Well, I don’t _hate_ it, I don’t mind if you are a little messy, I just think that...this...isn’t going well.” Hercules looked up from the mess he made to the stranger in the doorway. Finally getting a good look at him, he could see the beautiful, deep brown eyes that were glossed over, obviously deep in thought. “Hey man, you still here?” That seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

 

The man looked like he was about to say something but closed his mouth. His brow furrowed in concentration and he opened his mouth once again to reveal a thick accent immediately recognisable as French. “I...What?” They seemed to stare at each other before the stranger amended his statement. “ _Je suis désolé_. Can you repeat that please? Slower?” He talked slow, unsure that what he was saying was correct. Hercules nodded.

 

“Yeah dude. Sorry I broke the glass,” He pointed to the sad remains on the floor and waited for a nod in understanding from him.

 

“That is okay. _Pas de probléme.”_ Hercules smiled in relief.

 

“Oh thank God, I thought you were going to be mad. But the contract,” Hercules, forgetting that the man he was talking to grabbed a packet off the bed he unofficially claimed as his own. “that we signed when we agreed to live in student dorms says that anything we break has to be fixed or replaced, and I don’t-”

 

“ _Mon ami,_ slow please. I understood no of that.” Hercules smiled at the misuse of “no”.

 

“Yeah, sorry-” Hercules realized he didn’t know his new roommate’s name. “Hey, uh, my name’s Hercules, by the way.” He held out his hand and the man leaned his bag against the door and he shook Hercules’ hand enthusiastically.

 

“Yes, yes, hello!,” He said even more enthusiastically and Hercules let out a small chuckle. “My name is Gilbert du Motier de Lavigne.” Hercules pulled his hand back and was mindlessly about to start a conversation, only to remember that he was talking to someone who had to translate everything he said in his head. Slowly. This was going to be a long year if he can barely communicate with at least one of his roommates.

 

“Okay, Gilbert, I have to clean this,” he said slowly instead, and gestured towards the glass behind him, “and I’m guessing you have to unpack?” He once again gestured but towards Gilbert’s previously forgotten bag.

 

Gilbert looked between the two things and giggled. “Oh, _non_ , I will help.” He hung his backpack off the top bunk, unofficially claiming it as his, and bent down to pick up the larger pieces of glass. Hercules crouched down and used his shirt to put all the smaller pieces in.

 

It wasn’t until almost all the larger pieces were picked that Hercules realized the dorm didn’t come with a trash can. And he didn’t bring a trash bag. And Gilbert must have realized this too because he froze and looked over to Hercules worryingly.

 

“Did you..?”  


“ _Non. As tu?”_ Hercules shook his head solemnly. He never thought about bringing one up.

 

“Shit.” Hercules looked around for something to put the pieces in. The sink wouldn’t work since the glass would just tear the pipes up. And there was the problem with the water. The glass had water in it when he dropped it and now there was a huge puddle in the middle of their dorm. The two of them stared at each other before Gilbert stood up with an _Aha!_ and walked over to the small kitchen counter.

 

“We will just...,” he trailed off while nodding his head at the counter. When he saw that Hercules didn’t understand what he was try to portray, he groaned before carefully setting the glass on the counter. Turning around to face Hercules, he made a big show of his empty hands and shirt.

 

“You mean, just leave it here? What if our other roommate comes and just sees a pile of glass left on the counter?” Hercules was hesitant to leave a mess behind and make another bad impression.

 

“We will ‘leave it here’,” he said, borrowing the phrase Hercules just used, “and then we will buy a…” he trailed off once more trying to think of the right word.

 

“Trash can?” Hercules helped. Gilbert nodded wildly.

 

“Yes, yes. We will buy a trash can. Then we will clean up. Yes?”

 

“Alright, if you say so.” Hercules got up and placed his share of glass on the counter with Gilbert’s.

 

Gilbert, meanwhile, was hastily throwing his bags onto the bunk bed and zipping up his fancy winter coat with a goofy smile. Hercules smiled back awkwardly.

 

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

“OK, _mais_ you have to take me to a, _euh,_ _Américain Resta-”_ A loud thump followed by a quiet groan and _merde_ cut off Gilbert’s request.

 

Hercules stifled a laugh when he saw the mess in the hallway. Gilbert laying on his back, a stranger also on his back, but propped up enough by a large backpack so that he and Hercules could make eye contact, and a couple of people off to the side giggling at the scene were amongst his favourites. It wasn’t until the stranger asked for help did both Hercules and Gilbert jump into action.

 

“Haha, a little help?” He said in a strained voice as he wiggled back and forth like a turtle on his back.

 

“Oh, _mon dieu, je suis vraiment désolé._ I did not, _euh,_ know you were standing there.” The man just laughed and accepted Gilbert’s help while Hercules grabbed his other suitcase that tipped over in the, uh, _accident._

 

“ _Ce n’est pas un pas un probléme._ ” Gilbert seemed to brighten when he heard his native tongue, while Hercules did the opposite.

 

 _Fantastic. Another roommate that can speak French. There goes all my chances of being included._ He thought more bitterly than he would care to admit while the other two talked in French over God knows what. But it was a little obvious that John wasn’t as fluent as Gilbert since the conversation slowed down, and they were talking a lot slower than before.  
  
Seeming to remember that Hercules couldn’t speak French, Gilbert turned to him. “Ah, Hercules, this is our new,” His eyes narrowed in thought, “room...friend?”

 

“Roommate, Gilbert.” His new “room friend”, as Gilbert so fondly called it, smiled. “John Lawrence, by the way.” They shook hands, John’s hands seemingly miniscule compared to Hercules’s. It made sense, though, since John barely came up to Hercules’s chest. Hercules smiled.

 

“Nice to meet ya, kid.” They chatted for a bit as Gilbert and John (with a little push from Hercules and a lot of complaining from Gilbert) until John went to get something to eat.

 

“Is this glass?” Hercules and Gilbert shared a look.

 

“About that…”

 

After a brief explanation and a sudden realization that they still didn’t have a trashcan and were all hungry, the three of them decided to head out to the store, then dinner somewhere American that wasn’t McDonald’s. That request came from, surprisingly, Gilbert.

 

“So somewhere Colonial, huh?” Hercules said in thought. “How about McDonald's?” Gilbert laughed.

 

“‘ _You do realize there are McDonald's in France, right?_ ’” He said through John, who didn’t look surprised. “He’s right, dude. And they're a lot nicer.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, man. The Europeans know how to do fa-.”

 

    “No, I meant about them being in Europe.”

 

    “Oh, yeah. Those things are everywhere, man.” John explained while Gilbert nodded, pretending to fully understand. “How about a steakhouse or something?”  


“Do I look like a millionaire to you?”

 

After a long argument between the two, they finally settled on Cracker Barrel, only if Gilbert was paying since he wanted to go to an Colonial restaurant.

 

When the three finally made it outside, they realize that none of them have any idea where they were going. And neither did anyone in the swarm of new students around them. So none of them were surprised when John got separated in the large crowds. Hercules and Gilbert, however, were surprised to find him in a fight.

 

Hercules had to do a double take at first when he saw John’s adversary, but quickly sprung into action after he remembered that his new roommate and friend just punched the guy. Deciding that Gilbert probably didn’t want to meet his doppelganger, he decided to go talk to the guy.

  


“Hey are you alright?” The man was bleeding out of nose and Hercules remembered the handkerchief he kept on him for his siblings. The man eyed him wearily, but took it nonetheless.

 

Yeah, I guess. Who is that guy?” Hercules laughed.

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”  


By the time everyone cooled off and the other guy left (with Hercules’s handkerchief, he realized later), the three decided just to go back to their dorm, completely forgetting what they were going to do.

 

Meanwhile, Gilbert was suspiciously quiet and his head was on a swivel, constantly looking to and fro. It worried Hercules.

 

“Hey, Gil, what’s up?” Hercules asked, genuinely worried.

 

“I do not know.” The response was slow and he didn’t stop looking around. “I think I know that man.” That caused the other two to stop.

 

“Wait a sec. You know him?” John asked astonished, pointing to the square where the skirmish took place.

 

“I did not see him very good. Did he look like me _?_ ” Hercules nodded and Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Oh _mon dieu_ , I thought he was gone.”

 

“Who is he, Gil?” John asked, stealing the nickname Hercules used.

 

“Thomas Jacobson. My _mére_ knew his _pére._ His family has money. And he is not very nice.” Unconventional, but they got the point. Thomas was a spoiled little rich kid whose family had money and never had to work a day in his life. They must have a fortune if they took vacations to France of all places.

 

Hercules frowned. Something wasn’t adding up though. But John got to it first

 

“Hey Gil. How does your mother know Thomas’ dad?” A pause and a grimace from Gilbert was all the answer that he needed. John’s eyes widened in realization. “Your family’s rich! The Lavigne’s! I remember hearing about them on the news a couple years back. We even held a gathering to…” Oh shit. “Oh shit, Gil. I’m so sorry.”

 

Gilbert tried to brush him off but Hercules pressed on. “What happened?” John rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. Gilbert just looked at his feet, obviously not going to talk. Hercules looked to John for answers.

 

A sigh. “A couple of years ago, this really important woman in France died, and left her inheritance to her father until her child was old enough to receive her husband’s title. Unfortunately, a couple months later, the grandfather also became sick and died too, leaving this kid with a crazy inheritance and no family and one hell of a legacy to live up to. They were the Lavinge’s.”  
  
Hercules looked between the somber John and all-too-quiet Gilbert. “Holy shit, Gil. I'm so sorry for pressing.” But Gilbert had moved on from their conversation and instead was looking at around at the hallway they were in.

 

“Are we lost?” He asked.

 

“No, we're on the right floor.” John said, allowing the change in conversation. Hercules let it go as well. If Gilbert didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push.

 

“I think we are lost.” Gilbert said, still looking around for some kind of marker of some sort to tell him where he was.But John was right. The dorm numbers matched up with their floors. Only, the walls were a maroon instead of a dark green.

 

“I think you're right, Gil.”

 

“We are _not_ lost. I know exactly where we are.” John stood his ground. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

 

“We are lost. This colour is wrong.” Gilbert pointed to the wall.

 

“Hey guys…”

 

“Not now Herc. Gilbert, listen…” he strung off into French, but Hercules was more worried about the voices that were coming around a bend behind them to be annoyed.

 

“Oh shit.” Hercules tried to grab their hands to pull them away but neither budged.

 

“ _Oui, mais-”_ Gilbert stopped when he heard the voice as well. “ _Merde._ ”

 

“What is it? What did I mi-oh. Oh shiiii-”

 

“We gotta go.” This time when Hercules grabbed their hands, they followed complicity, running down the hall of closed doors until one opened. Without thinking, Hercules pushed the others through the door, pushing the occupant back into the room, and shutting the door behind them.

 

“Jacobson.” The three said in unison, leaning against the door.

 

“I swear, if he’s living in our building-”

 

 _“Non,_ John. This isn’t our-” The two sprung back into their argument while the occupant watched them. Hercules smiled apologetically.

 

“Hi…”

 

“What. The. Hell?” The other two shut up, as if they remembered they were in someone else’s dorm.

  


“Hi. We just needed a place to hide from an asshole. Im John, by the way, and this is Gilbert and Hercules.”

 

“ _Salut.”_

 

“Hi.”

 

“So this asshole, I’m guessing his name is ‘Jacobson’?”

 

“ _Oui._ Thomas Jacobson. I knew him, but he is...not nice.”  
  
“Yeah, he asked me a question once and was really rude about it for no reason.” Hercules turned to John.

 

“Is that really what that fight was about?” John shrugged.

 

“Wait, Jacobson? Is he Richard Jacobson’s son?” Hercules and John shrugged, while Gilbert nodded. “You fought a government official’s son?”

 

“I guess so? It really wasn’t much of a fight, mostly just me punching him and these two coming in between us.” The man smiled.

 

“Any man that punches a Jacobson is a friend of mine. I’m Alex, by the way.” The new guy, Alex, shook John’s hand.

 

“Do I get to be your friend? I hit him after he got us, ah, _arrêté.”_ Alex look at Gilbert.

 

“ _Vous étes français?_ ” Alex asked, the two ignoring Hercules’ loud groan.

 

“Wait, arrested?”

 

“ _Oui,_ but that is a story for when we, ah, drink.” Hercules laughed.

 

“Only if you pay, Mr. Millionaire.”

 

“Millionaire?” Alex asked, intrigued.

 

Gilbert sighed and pulled out a credit card. “ _Oui.”_ Hercules and John’s eyes widened and they shared a look.

 

“You go from the left, I’ll go from the right?”

 

“Deal.”

 

“Wh-” Gilbert was cut off by Hercules and John tackling him onto the floor, trying to get the card. Alex flinched back, but chuckled when John stood up with an _Aha!_ and a sleek, black card in his hand. Gilbert sat up, hair a mess.

 

 _“Un probléme._ It is in francs, not British money.” Gilbert smiled when John deflated and handed the card back to Gilbert’s open palm. “ _Merci._ ”

 

“So do you have any pounds?” Gilbert shrugged.

 

“I grabbed a few hundred pounds when I was at the airport.” John narrowed his eyes at him and smiled evilly.

 

“Where are they?” Gilbert’s hand moved to his pocket out of habit and John leaped at him again. The two began to wrestle again on the floor, but this time Alex was all out laughing with Hercules.

 

This, of course, was when Alex’s roommate decided would be a good time to enter the conversation.

 

“You know what, I’m going to get a drink.” The other four jumped at the new voice, none of them realizing that he was there. Alex tried to stop him from walking away, but when he did, it was because Hercules had grabbed his collar and dragged him back into the room, to Alex’s horror.

 

 

 

**_2̷̳͂0̸̯̮͛͌̒͑͠1̶̊͜6̷̼͈̓̉̂͘;̷̨͔̠̟̐̑̐͝ ̴̢͆́̏͌K̷̭͂̑̔́̒i̸̧̤̻̟͐͜n̴̫͙̰̖͊̓͌͛͊g̸̫̘̯̪̅̾͠'̶̝̟͉͉̍̒s̷͇͎̟̭̫͂̒͑ ̵͙̃̄̚͠C̶̛̛͙̱̮̀̈́ö̴̧͕̼́l̷͚͖͎͊l̶̙̎̓͗̌͝é̷̝͒͝g̴̦̗͔̠͒̆̿͜e̶̢̗̬͐͘͜_ **

**_(2016; King’s College)_ **

Pacing. It’s all he could seem to do. _Of course he got into a fight. And it was no surprise who with._ Back and forth. Back and forth. _Two more weeks._

 

He stopped pacing for the first time in almost half an hour.

 

Two weeks. And then all of them would be in the right place for another chance.

 

One more chance.

 

Two weeks.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so you guys have full permission to kill me
> 
> but it was partially your fault since u didn't yell at me enough
> 
> In all seriousness, I'm rlly sorry about the late update. Life really ot in the way and our friend Laf was really freakin hard to write well and as a bilingual person, I wanted to get him right. But I think I did well. I know what it's like to try to navigate a foreign country with limited knowledge of the language. So I channeled that and took some liberty later in the chapter.
> 
> Ps I'm looking for a beta so if u want to read my shitty work first and help make it less shitty then pm me
> 
> Pps if u guys want to cry over dead ppl with me on tumblr mines @hamil-donewithurshit


	4. Jimmy Jams and TJays + The Saunders Siblings again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Thomas talk over dinner and miss curfew. Our favorite siblings help them out. Plus an honorable mention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter seems rushed or dialogue-heavy. I tried and i will go back one day and edit the chapters so you have that to look forward to. But hey, its not a month over-due so I have that going for me. And I do poke into life under military rule starting with the most obvious: curfew. Cliche, but easy to write about. So i went for it. And I do brush over our little 'secret society'. Also Peggy is me. Also James.
> 
> Enjoy my little baguettes
> 
> (i dont know just roll with it)
> 
> (pun sort of intended)

_**2̷͎́0̵̞͔̏1̵̮̞̏̎7̷̲̠̀;̵̠̠͗ ̴͔͆K̵̭͛͋i̸͎͆͠n̸̹̦͗͘g̸̝̊͜͝'̵͔̙̇͒ŝ̶̭͝ ̷̝͝C̵̳̍ȍ̴̯͇l̷̳̹̓l̷̺͝e̸͎̍g̸̗̀͑e̸̥͓̿'̴̬̠̿͒s̸̠̐ ̴̤̠͒͑G̶̨̀e̸̻͐o̶̦͐̾r̸̭̼͘ǵ̴̳͍ę̸́̿ ̷̛̫̯͝B̷͕̏ṳ̶̑i̴͚̦͐̉l̸̩̂ḓ̵̾͆í̶̖̳n̶̨̘͌g̵̝̽̚** _

_**2017; King's College's George Building** _

 

Three things were on James’ mind when he first met Thomas : 1) _holy shit I just fell off the counter in front of a stranger,_ 2) _oh my god why was he bleeding who the hell am I rooming with,_ and a less prominent but constant 3) _I'm gay I'm gay holy shit I'm gay._

Lying on the floor after doing something so _stupid_ as a _first impression_ tends to make one’s anxiety spike. His breathing gets faster as not only the whole scene plays out in his head over and over but the most likely future where the (very cute) man leaves and James becomes the laughing stock on campus. Or the worst case scenario: they become friends and James falls in love.

But that's not likely.

Or that's what James thought until he worked up the courage to open his eyes and _just so happens_ to open them to the most beautiful light brown eyes he's ever seen. And he could have laid there forever looking into those eyes if the man wasn't fretting over him and bleeding from his nose. Right.

“Dude? Hey little man? Are you okay? I just walked in and…” James rubbed his eye in irritation. Pretty, but useless in a situation. Good to know. And that's ignoring the short joke.

 “Yeah,” He sat up with a deep sigh. “I'm alright. You just scared me when you...you know…” James made a sweeping gesticulation hoping that he would understand without making James say that he was startled by him talking. The man nodded slowly.

 "Riiiiiiight, okay. So I'm Thomas. And what's your name?” He reluctantly held out his hand and James was able to make out a slight southern drawl.

 “James. James Melton.” They shook, still on the floor. “If you don't mind my asking, what…” James made a circular motion with his hand at Thomas’ nose. “...happened?”

 Thomas laughed a bitter and tired laugh and stood up. “That's a funny story actually. How about over dinner?” He held out his hand and helped James up. James noticed then just how tall Thomas was; over a head taller than he.

 “Yeah, sure. Just let me grab something first then we can head out since it's-” he checked his watch quickly, “-7:45 already. Wow.” He swiftly and secretly, with skill perfected with time, unscrewed one of his prescription bottles and took out a pill, slipping it in his coat with a smile and a “Let’s go.”

As they walked down the corridor, James persisted with being told the story of an almost broken nose and an apparently stolen handkerchief until Thomas gave in and told the story.

 “So right when I think he's going to say some stupid comeback, he goes and PUNCHES me right here,” Thomas shows the bruised side of his nose to James. “Little bitch. It wasn't even my best insult. He had no right to punch me.” James shrugged.

“You did call him short.”

“That still doesn't give him the right to punch me.” Jame pretended to ponder the statement and shook his head.

 “No, no it gives him every right. Trust me; I'm short.”

 “Wha-whose side are you on?”

 “Us short people have to stick together against you tall people.” Thomas theater gasped.

 “Betrayal.”

 “I know.”

 The two made their way to a nearby cafe off campus. Thomas wanted Italian, but the nearest Italian restaurant was forty minutes away. Driving distance. And curfew was in two hours. So they ordered small sandwiches and Thomas had a coffee while James just had tea. “The caffeine isn't good for me.” He explained to a slightly shocked Thomas.

 “So where in Virginia do you come from?” Thomas almost choked on his coffee.

 “Wait, how did you know I was from Virginia?” James smiled from over his tea and let his repressed accent come out full force.

 “I know a fellow Virginian when I hear ‘em.” Thomas smiled back.

 “Very observant. I live in central Virginia, near Richmond.”

 “Really? I've lived in Richmond since I was eight.”

 “Wow, you must have been rich.” It was James’ turn to choke on his drink. Thomas didn't notice and kept on talking. “My family had an apartment downtown as a summer home, or winter home, I can't remember. But we never went there unless my father had business in the city.”

James couldn't believe what this guy was saying. A summer home _and_ a winter home? In the _city_ ? By the sound of it, James was sure Thomas wasn't talking about the dirty but dirt cheap studio apartment he and his mother moved into after his mother got a secretary's job after his father’s death. No, Thomas was talking about one of those million dollar penthouses the government people who never worked a day in their lives lived. Who was James talking to?

“-and the one in England is my favourite.” Wait. England? “It’s huge. But I’ve only been there a few times. The only house I’ve stayed in for an extended period of time is the one outside of Richmond.” James’ eyes were wide and he had yet to put down his tea. Thomas, evidently, didn’t notice James’ awkwardness and motioned towards James. “Enough about me, what about you?” James coughed.

“M-Me?” Thomas nodded and James shifted in his seat. “Well, I live with my mom in Richmond. Well, _lived_ is more accurate obviously.” It was here that James realized he had two options: tell the truth and look like a complete fool in front of this very rich man or lie and when Thomas finds out the truth, leave James friendless. He chose the former. “She was a secretary.” Thomas flinched as he realized how much of an ass he was.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what happened to your d-” James held up a finger, stopping him mid sentence. 

“Ah ah ah, you have to be at _least_ a level four friend to unlock my tragic backstory.” Thomas stared at him for a moment before it clicked.

“You stole that from the internet.” James laughed at his vernacular and recognition.  
  
“Oh yeah. I did.”

“So what level friend am I?"

“One. But almost a two, if you don’t leave me when I say that I’m dirt poor.”

“Deal.” They jokingly shook on it. “Only two more levels until I unlock the James Backstory.”

 

The two spent the rest of their cafe dinner making small talk. James learned that he had a messy roommate and Thomas learned that James’ dad used to be a farmer. James kept his illness a secret for now, but the small sailboat drawn on his wrist with a light blue sail was something that he would take to his grave when it came to Thomas. He knew of Thomas’ family. The Jacobsons were notorious for their anti-gay laws.

 

_**2̸͉̽0̸̲̋͋1̸͉̲̑̌7̷̹̝̽͝;̴̱̀̔ ̷̠͝K̷̙͗i̶̭͊n̸̥̮̐̍ǧ̷̞̆ͅ'̸̦̺͂̔s̴̞̃ ̸̬̥̓̓C̸̹̎ö̷̭̚l̵̢͚̃l̵͉͌͆è̵̏͜g̶̺̿e̵̬̓'̴͍̎s̸̤͔̒̓ ̸̭͐W̷̫̣̿ḯ̴̱͌l̶̝̈́̑l̷̠̇͂ĩ̷̙a̷̗͠m̶̙͇͊̏ ̵̢̨̎B̷͍͒u̸̠͂̒i̵̧̛̮l̸̻̻̈̉d̷͉̮̚i̷̻̐n̶̻͊͗g̷͉̖̉̏** _

_**2017; King's College's William Building**_

Eliza wasn’t the most observant person, but the two men they helped get back on campus after curfew were _definitely_ in love. Or at least, there some kind of unrequited love there.

The two, Thomas and James, apparently went out to dinner, lost track of time, and had to climb over the fence behind the William Building. They were walking past the Saunders’ dorm, which was on the first floor, when two Royal officers came walking by. Eliza saw all of this happen, and opened their back door to grab the two men and drag them inside before they were seen out of their room after curfew. Angelica was not happy.

“These are _strangers_ , Eliza.” She whisper-screamed in their bathroom. Eliza wasn’t having it.

“Yes, but they seem like good people. Plus, you _know_ what happens when people are caught after ‘few. One of them has one of _these_ ,” she pointed to the sailboat on her wrist. “And during questioning, he would be asked about it. And look at him. He would break in an instant.”

Angelica opened the door a little. The one who introduced himself as James and said way too many apologies, was fiddling with his sleeve. A small, blue sail poked out from underneath it. Angelica deflated. “Okay, you’re right. But I’m still not happy about your decision.”  
  
When they walked back out to the living room, Peggy was sitting on one of the chairs having a stare-off at Thomas. She was the image of ‘disinterested but I dare you to try something’ with her hands in her pockets of her hoodie and blowing bubbles with her gum. Thomas had a confused and slightly scared look, while James was looking between the two, a little scared but a lot guilty. He seemed to relax when he saw Eliza, but was immediately on edge again when he saw Angelica, who did her best to smile at him.

“Sorry about that. My sister likes to take in strays-”

“That was ONE time Ang-”

“And I have to be the voice of reason. But she talked me down from throwing you back out there to the dogs. Please, make yourself at home. They usually stop patrolling regularly at 11:30, so you have about an hour."  
  
James was about to protest when Thomas plopped down next to where Angelica was sitting on the couch. Peggy went to the vending machines, against Angelica’s protests, to get some chocolate and a soda. Eliza saw James standing in the corner, not so subtly staring at Thomas. Eliza knew that look, she had it more often than not.

“So, Thomas, huh?” James was startled at first by her sudden appearance, but was confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The grip on his wrist got tighter as if he was scared that Eliza would grab it and expose him. As if she didn't already know.

“I mean,” she leaned in towards James as her voice dropped to a whisper and she poked him square in the chest, “that you, _sir_ , have a _crush_ on your _roommate_.” James looked terrified.

“I-I don’t- What are-You are-” He started blubbering and Eliza couldn’t help but laugh a little and show him her wrist. He shut up.

“Relax. We are one in the same.”

“You? You’re-? What?” He sputtered. Eliza laughed.

“Yeah, I know. I help Ang...sort of recruit people. You should come. It's like a big therapy session. There'll be snacks.” The snack part usually gets people, but Eliza was surprised when he still looked uncertain.

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon, we always need more allies. People need to know there are more of us.” James looked at the ground. “And and even if you can’t, if you see another one of us, can you direct them me or my sisters?” James fought the urge to correct her grammar and nodded. “Thanks. We meet Thursdays in Warrington’s room. That’s room 320 in the Howe building. Professor Warrington nicknamed it Vernon. No one knows why.” This was a lot of information and James was having a hard time taking it all in.

“Wait, who’s Professor Warrington?” Eliza laughed as if he told an inside joke.  
  
“He’s the head of the History Department. He’s the kind of guy that seems really tough and scary until you actually talk to him and realize that he’s just an old man that gets over excited about history and calls you ‘son’ three times in one sentence.” James cracked a smile as Eliza reminisced and that seemed to snap her back to the present conversation.  “ You’re a freshman, right? Then, yeah, you’ll get him. He only likes to teach the newbies like you and me. Something about ‘respect’ and ‘the younger ones fear him more’."

“How do you know him so well?”  
  
“Geesh, is this an interview?” She joked, trying to lighten the mood. Only it seemed to make him sink in on himself more.  
  
“Sorry.”

“No, no. You’re cool. The Warringtons were old family friends for a while until they moved to Virginia. That’s why all three of us go here.” It was then that Peggy burst through the door chucking chocolate at xyr’s sisters and by extension, James and Thomas.

“Guess WHO JUST BOUGHT OUT THE ENTIRE _VENDING MACHINE!”_  
  
“Don’t tell me; you?” Angelica asked monotonously.

“ME!”

“Who’d have guessed, what with the hundreds of candy bars on the floor.” Thomas said, picking one up and opening it.

“And in your hair.” Angelica pulled out a Milky Way bar from his hair and he snatched it.

“Those are my favourite.” Eliza watched as Thomas pocketed the bar and kept eating the other in his hand.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James check his watch.

“Well, would you look at that. It’s 11:30. We should really be headed back since we pick up our schedules early tomorrow.” Oh yeah, schedule pick up. That Ang had signed the three up for and demanded that they be at Main Hall at 5:30 tomorrow. Eliza yawned just thinking about it.

“What? Jemmy, c’mon. The chocolate fairy just got here!” Thomas dodged a Snickers thrown by Peggy. “Please?”

“No, we have to be up at 6 tomorrow.”

“I thought pick up ended at 10?”  
  
“It does, but I want to-” Their conversation was cut off as they walked out of the dorm and into the hallway. Peggy shut the door with a whistle.

“Well, that was interesting.” Angelica stood up.

“James was right, though. We have schedule duty tomorrow. We should try to get some sleep.” Murmurs of ‘yeah’ and ‘okay, fine’ followed as the three climbed into their respective beds (Peggy on the top bunk, Eliza on the bottom, and Ang got the solo bed since she’s “the oldest and wisest of us all.” Plus she pays most of the room and board fees).

Thoughts of coloured sailboats and chocolate lulled two people to sleep that night.

 

_**2̵͙̉̇0̶͓̳̄̀1̵̀̈́ͅ7̸̀̕ͅ;̸͖̀ͅ ̸͕͍̔Ķ̸̣̅͝i̵̥͌n̷͕̰̔̈́g̸̳͗'̸̺̏s̶͖͠ ̴̲̖̎C̷͉̽ó̶̞͕͌l̷̩̅̈́l̷͖̅̕e̸͍̽g̶͉̱̿e̵͓͚͋'̶̮̽s̵̞̍̊ ̷̜̯̅H̷̝́͜ǫ̷̛̞̔w̷̺̻͌̇e̸̥̎͒ ̵̱͒̕Ḃ̶͙̟͗ų̷̽i̸̥̋l̸͙̆d̶̡̼͆̚ỉ̴͖n̸͙̜̾̽g̴̛̪̳,̷̜͑̈́ ̸͙͗Ŕ̶̪̍o̵̫͎̽̑ơ̴͕m̷̰̏͝ ̸͙̿̿3̵̰̜̕͠2̴̲̮͂̔0̸͙̅͝** _

_**2017; King's College's Howe Building, Room 320** _

A hand slammed down onto the desk but the owner had more important matters to worry about. They were becoming less careful. And that's just about the club he runs. He was skilled enough to talk himself out of that, but once the true plan starts, everyone's going to have to be extremely careful and not talk about it in front of a potential enemy.

The man sighed. He knows hes being over-dramatic, but after what happened  _last time_ he doesn't want to risk anything.

The man shifted in his usually comfortable chair. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he gets to meet everyone and if he can get them all in one room, then maybe, just  _maybe,_ that'll trigger  _some_ memories. And hopefully everything will go smoother from there. 

Tomorrow, the sun might shine just a little bit brighter over the colonies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO fun fact: mt vernon's address is 3200 mt vernon way so that's where room 320 came from
> 
> fun fact #2: if you mention lafayette to literally anyone they'll be like "WHo?" 
> 
> also im still on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hamil-donewithurshit) so if you wanna chat or cry over dead ppl together with a lonely loser im there
> 
> plus i might start posting cool extras like one shots (that may or may not be in-universe depends) and my slightly entertaining mini-summaries I write for myself


	5. What Do You Mean You Were Almost Arrested?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex convinces Aaron to go to a bar with him + the Gang. Aaron dies inside a little and Alex loves it. Also, our man George grows a few more grey hairs.

Aaron wasn’t sure what he just walked in on, or if he was even in the right dorm, but he knew that as soon as the hand gripped his collar, he was fucked. It was late, and frankly, he’d had a long day, longer than he’d expected. And being dragged into a room full of strangers by a  _ giant _ wasn’t helping. 

 

“Well, if it isn’t a Mr. Aaron Bell.” As soon as he heard the unmistakable voice of John Lawrence, Aaron saw him.

 

“John. I didn’t think I’d see you here.” He was surprised his voice didn’t waver. He  _ was  _ just forcibly dragged into a dorm. “I thought your father sent you to a school in England?” For a moment, John looked a little surprised, but shrugged Aarons question off with a ‘meh’. 

 

A small, shy-er looking man stepped up to Aaron and shook his hand vigorously. “You must be Aaron Bell. I’m Alexander Hayfield. I’m your dorm mate.” He finally let go and Aaron fought the urge to wipe his hand. Insulting his new dorm mate on the first day wasn’t the best idea, no matter how warm his hands were. “And these are my…” He trailed off, obviously trying to come up with a word. “...friends?” He settled on. The Large on that grabbed him did a sloppy two-fingered salute and the Tall one on the floor waved. John un-slumped himself and put an arm around Alexander.

 

“Yep, that’s right Bell. Me and Alex-”

 

“Alex and  _ I- _ ” Bell tried to correct him but John didn’t stop.

 

“-are besties. So, we’ll be seeing you more often than not. Hey,” His sly grin turned into more of a smile as he turned to Alexander. “How about you guys come out with us tonight?” Everyone in the room looked at John like he’d grown a second head.

 

“John I-”

“Who said we-”

 

“Hold on a sec-”   
  


John ignored all the protests. “Great! We’ll be here at about 8? Cool.” The Tall one and the Large one started to leave with John in tow when he turned back to Aaron. “And hey, the schools on the Island can suck my-” 

 

The door slammed shut before he could reach the profanity. Aaron huffed while Alex giggled. 

 

He, honest to God,

 

Giggled.

 

Closing his eyes, Aaron reserved himself to a year of pain.

* * *

 

 

No one knew how, but somehow Alex managed to drag Aaron out with them. They went to a bar outside of town in one of the more ‘historic’ districts. It was loud and rowdy, but they had good beer.

 

According to Yelp.

 

But Alex didn’t care. And he didn’t care that Aaron seemed to glare at anyone who so much as brushes past him. He actually found it kind of hilarious. 

 

Herc and Gil, on the other hand, were chatting with anyone who would talk to them for more than five seconds. The two six foot men would double team a conversation like they’ve known each other their whole lives. John and Alex fill Gil in whenever he got lost. 

 

After a few hours, the crowds start thinning and the five find themselves the youngest ones in the bar. Alex recommend they stay for one more drink, much to Aaron’s chagrin, since curfew isn’t until 11 on weekends. 

 

“It’s almost a thirty minute walk back to campus, Alex.” Aaron said smoothly, being the one one at least a little sober. 

 

“And it’s-” Alex dramatically looked at his watch. “-10:15. We can make it.” Herc whooped and dragged Aaron and Gil to get the next round of drinks. Alex used this time to ask a question that was bugging him. “Hey, how do you know Aaron?” John snorted over his drink.

 

“I need a few more drinks to go into  _ that _ story. Either that or an-” Yelling over at the other end of the bar caught their attention. 

 

“No,  _ you _ don't understand! The colonies  _ rebelled against the Crown! _ The king had no choice  _ but _ to rule with an iron fist!” A voice loud with alcohol yelled, obviously frustrated. The bar went quiet, curious to see what the opponent was to say; and see if a royal guard would be needed. 

 

“You misunderstand me,  Samuel. The colonies in 1774 might have needed that, but now? “ A calm voice responded. “ The king-” 

 

“The  _ King _ does what he  _ has to do!” _ The loud man, named Samuel apparently, interrupted passionately. Alex tuned put the rest of the argument he tried to make in the hope of saving brain cells. Aaron, Herc, and Gil walked over to the their drinks, eyeing the two men. Herc laughed at some stupid comment John made.

 

“Someone should tear him apart. I would, but I'm better with my hands.” He did a little jazz hands as to try to prove his point. The gears started to turn in Alex’s head. He took a long gulp of his drink and took a step towards the argument, but was stopped by a hand on his chest.

 

“Don't. “ Aaron’s face was hard. “Leave it.” He spoke as if talking to a child. It may be the alcohol, but for some reason the way Aaron said if made Alex’s blood boil,  and he pushed Aaron off. 

 

“-rebels are just petulant children not knowing their place!” The gentleman was about to respond when Alex jumped in. 

 

“No not really.” The both turned to Alex, a scowl on Samuel's face, and a quirked eyebrow on the other man's face, beckoning Alex to continue. “Rebellions in history are people refusing to be treated like crap anymore and deciding to do something about it.” Samuel scoffed. 

 

And what did the colonists have to complain about? The conditions in England we  _ horrendous _ compared to how the colonists were living!” Alex considered it.

 

“Maybe, but at least they knew that they has a say no matter how small, in what would happen to them. It took a letter 34 weeks to reach England. On a good day. The king decided it was too much work to get the opinion of almost 2.5 million people! Plus, remember Boston? The soldiers killed hundreds of people. What do you think that did to morale, especially up in New England, and the middle colonies? They lost so much, maybe they just wanted to take something back.”

 

“Okay, but why are people rebelling now?” We have representatives in Parliament. Why should after almost two hundred and fifty years of peace, decide that now they need to be heard from again?”

 

“Well they wouldn’t be rebelling if the new king suddenly spring a shit-ton of taxes on us. And not to mention the rumors that sound a lot like a downsizing of Parliament. And which reps do you think will be the first to go? The colonists’.”

 

Samuel stuttered for a little bit before the other man stood up to his whole 6 foot something height, towering over both Alex and Samuel, and spoke again. “You know Shepard, you should just stick to English, and leave the history to me.” Shepard, flustered at the tag team, clenched his jaw, grabbed his jacket, and left. Both Alex and the man relaxed a little. The man eyed Alex for a moment before asking. “Those were some real nice arguments. What’s your name, son?” Alex’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“I-” 

 

“ALEX!” The unusually quiet voice of Aaron carried through the bar. “WE GOTTA GO!” John, Herc, Gil, and Aaron came running towards him. A royal guard enters the establishment, accompanied by a random patron, who was pointing at Alex and his little group.

 

__ _ Shit. _

 

“Shit.” the man behind Alex cursed as the guard started towards them. “Follow e.” He turned quickly into the back room, Alex and the others following closely. 

 

The guard hot on their trail, the six made their way down an alley behind the restaurant and out into the semi-busy street. Dodging people, they followed the man to a large, grey Jeep. Without hesitation, everybody entered the vehicle, bar Aaron.

 

Are you guys  _ nuts?!” _ he yelled, checking over his shoulder to see the guard and a few others running at them. He kept looking back and forth as if weighing his options. Alex was losing patience but John beat him to it.

 

“Just get in the damn car, Bell!” He yelled. “I swear to God, Bell, if you don’t get in the fu-” Herc climbed over John and out the car to where Aaron was standing. He picked up the smaller man and forced him into the car, sqeezing Aaron between John and himself before yelling “Drive!” 

 

“Oh my God.” Aaron said to himself. “I’m friends with psychopaths.” Everyone ignore him.

 

“Who  _ are _ you?” Alex asked, leaning forward so his head was next to the man’s.

 

“George Whittaker.” George did a bit of a double take at the sight of Alex. “Put your damn seat belts on!” Alex rolled his eyes and sunk back to his seat next to John, but didn’t put his seatbelt on. George eyed him for  moment before speaking again. “So, what are all of your names? I know that one’s Alex.” George looks at him again in the rear-view mirror. Alex looks away. Everyone seems to notice the tension, so John speaks up.

 

“I’m, uhh, John,” He says. “And this is Hercules, and next to him is our own personal drama queen, Aaron.” John sends Aaron a shit-eating grin, and Aaron retaliates with a glare. 

 

“And I am called Gilbert.” Gil says from the front passenger seat dramatically, making big gestures with his hands to make fun of the four men squished in the backseat. 

 

“French?” George asked.

 

“Mmm,  _ oiu. _ ” Gil said, proving his point. George nodded in acceptance, and everyone in the car seemed to relax. Over the few hours they’ve known each other, everyone, even Aaron though he’ll never admit it, has grown fond of the Frenchman. And since England and France haven’t had a good track record and a lot of people in the colonies, especially those with close ties to the Island, have strong discriminations against anything French. Including the people. 

 

So George, whomever he may be, already have some of their trust and respect.

 

 

It was 10:58 by the time they ,made it back to campus. George dropped them off at their  dorm after receiving instructions by Aaron, the only one awake at that point. After good nights and see you tomorrows, and a few good jokes about what happened, the five split ways and headed to their respective dorms. 

 

Alex collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep almost immediately, dreams he never thought he’d have filling his already hectic night. 

 

* * *

 

George dropped his keys off onto his counter in a daze. Could it?

 

No.

 

I it?

Slowly lowering himself into a dining room chair, he replayed the events and names through his head, over and over and over again.

 

_ Alex, John, Aaron, Gilbert, Hercules. Alex, John, Aaron, Gilbert, Hercules. Alex, John, Aaron, Gilbert, Hercules. Alex, John, Aaron, Gilbert, Hercules… _

 

Oh my God it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna make any excuses 
> 
> You are free to hate me
> 
> (But im also very thankful for all the ppl asking when this was going to come back here you go ilu)
> 
> (Ist currently 1:24 in the morning and I'm gonna fix this tomorrow I just wanted to get this out. So if ur reading this on a Friday night or saturday morning then im sorry for the trash)
> 
> Also, I know the arguments in this are probably shut but listn
> 
> I have no background in debate. Yet.
> 
> I did the best that I could
> 
> Also also Laf is still hard af to write still so while he's my favorite character (and historical figure) I've been high key avoiding him. Sorry bby
> 
> (That was weird to write in sorry)
> 
> Also also also never get into a car w a stranger. Seriously. I will explain as to why they got into the car no questions asked but it's not because they just always get into cars with random strangers. So seriously don't very into cars w strangers and please don't ask why they got into the car and that it's sOoOoOo ooc like I know I'll get to that. 
> 
> Anything else is practically free game 
> 
> Hope yall enjoyed 
> 
> See you soon (hopefully by next summer lol) 
> 
> (Jk it will be sooner than that I promise)


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